


you're the cat's meow

by lardosundercut (staccato_ramble)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pet Store, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Rom-Com Style Hijinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-23 23:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14943240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staccato_ramble/pseuds/lardosundercut
Summary: “You spent over two-hundred dollars on things for your cat. A cat who, I know, has pretty much one of everything on this receipt.”Now, Jeff using his I-Am-Six-Months-Older-And-Therefore-Know-All voice. It was old when they first met in high school and Jeff was Kent’s partner for a project. It was old when Jeff advised against Kent attempting twenty-one shots in twenty-one minutes on his birthday. And still, when it’s put that way, Kent can’t help but wince a little. Trying to make himself seem like a reasonable adult, Kent gets real plates out of the cabinet for himself and Jeff to eat. Jeff keeps staring at him, knowing full well that eventually, he’s going to break. And Kit, bored of the machinations of humans, wanders off as Kent plates the pizza.Finally, Kent admits, “The guy who owns the store was hot.”Or, Kent walks into the local pet shop and finds himself besotted by its owner, Jack Zimmermann.





	you're the cat's meow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blazeofglory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blazeofglory/gifts).



> Thank you to lexpistachio for going above and beyond as my beta. <3
> 
> blazeofglory, I hope this fulfills your desire for "fluff, pure fluff". It was an absolute blast to write!

Anyone who knows Kent can tell you the lengths he goes to keep Kit in the lap of luxury.   
  
They have an established, elaborate brushing ritual that involves them both lounging in the sun. Kit has a horde of crinkly balls, toy mice, and other goodies that Kent rotates out on a regular basis to keep her from getting bored. He has even hung bird feeders outside Kit's favorite windows so she can watch the birds. Hell, Kent even spent an embarrassing amount of time debating whether or not he should buy one of those cat tongue brushes for Kit before ultimately deciding that she might not be able to look him in the eye if he actually used it on her. Kent loves his cat and loves spoiling her.   
  
So, when Kent goes on his first jog around his new neighborhood and sees he lives down the street from ‘Fur-Get-Me-Not Pet Supply’, he's absolutely delighted. Skidding to an immediate stop, he peers in the darkened windows for a bit before taking a picture of the store hours. For maybe the first time in his life, he regrets not being a morning person. If Kent jogged in the morning, he would've been able to check the place out today. As it is, he finishes his jog and heads home buzzing with excitement. Once he's showered and Kit jumps into bed with him, he happily tells her about his find. Kit's a sweet girl. She purrs and lifts her head so Kent can scratch under her chin, head tilted like she's listening.   
  
"How'd you like a new scratching post, little lady?" he asks. "Yours got pretty banged up in the move."   
  
Kit meows in a series of short chirps. Kent wishes he had gotten a recording for Snapchat or Instagram or _something_ because she's literally the best girl in the whole world. He nods, moving his hand from her chin in order to stroke her back.   
  
"Of course, it may not be the same as the PetSmart back home. But we gotta try new things, Kit!"   
  
Kit flops over at that, laying on her back with her belly exposed. Knowing it's probably a trap but helpless to resist, Kent obliges and scritches her belly. In response, Kit purrs for about a minute before batting his hand away. She doesn't actually mean to scratch him, but her nails are a little long. Kent adds a new nail file to his mental list of things to check for at the new store. Still on her back, Kit lets out a plaintive meow. Her big green eyes look sad and, ever the fool, Kent goes back to pet her belly again.   
  
"Good point," Kent says. "We totally want to support small businesses. You think of everything."   
  
For a moment, Kit does look pleased with herself. But, Kent isn't sure if that's because he understood her stance on shopping local or because, a moment later, she successfully catches his hand again. 

* * *

When Kent and Kit enter Fur-Get-Me-Not Pet Supply an honest-to-God bell rings above their heads. Kent finds himself immediately charmed because he’s much more used to silence or an electric ding announcing his arrival. The front end of the shop has only one register and a small forest of modern-looking cat trees. There’s a little radio set on the counter playing a twangy country song which isn’t quite to Kent’s taste but he can forgive it because there’s also a framed portrait of a cat next to a glass jar asking for donations to the local shelter.

“Be with you in a moment!” A voice calls from the backend of the store.

“Take your time,” Kent replies easily, letting Kit down so she can walk.

While he’s very aware it makes him sound like a total Cat Dad, Kent will tell anyone who’ll listen about how much Kit loves walks. In the first weeks he had her, Kit constantly tried to escape the house and gave Kent about a half-dozen heart attacks in doing so. The harness had been the suggestion of an online forum. Taking her on walks where she was secure and safe allowed Kit the fresh air she craved and Kent the peace of mind he needed. The only downfall is when they run into Dog People who are eager to tell Kent that he should’ve just gotten a dog if he wanted a pet he could walk. They’ve only been in their new place two weeks, so this is the little lady’s first outing and it has been blissfully free of the aforementioned Dog People.

Once she’s on the ground, she sniffs at the foot of a display stand before pulling him forward.

Kent allows himself to be lead down the nearest aisle, which seems to house cat and dog food. In addition to oversized bags and cans of brands like Iams and Purina, the store stocked the small business owned, organic brand that Kit liked best. Kent makes a mental note of this, pleased that he won’t need to special order it online anymore. As a bonus, there’s even a cooler at the very end of the aisle that housed logs of refrigerated pet food.

Bending down to stroke Kit’s back, Kent coos, “You’re gonna be eating good from now on, baby.”

Kit chirps in response, tugging him further into the shop. The back wall is lined with bedding for small animals and kitty litter and Kit had little interest in those. They pass what had to be the stockroom because Kent hears someone rustling around in there. As they walk by an aisle that seemed to contain every type of toy a dog could want, Kent marvels at the fact that the store was empty. Kit stops them to look at the aquariums, peering curiously at their occupants.

“We’re not getting a fish,” Kent said in what he hoped was a firm voice.

“Those guys don’t do well as ‘a fish’ anyway,” a voice teases, startling Kent and making him turn around. “You’re better off getting a small school with minnows.”

If the guy who scared him wasn’t so handsome, he’d be stuck with Kent mentally referring to him as Minnow Man for the end of time. He’s not much taller than Kent, but his shoulders are broader and, carrying two buckets in either hand, his arm muscles are flexing in a way that does things for Kent. Which is wholly inappropriate, given that Kit is _right there_. Trying to distract himself, Kent looks away from the guy’s arms to focus on his face instead. The plan backfires because the guy has impossibly blue eyes - the kind that are pretty even if his bangs are flopping in front of them.

“We’re not getting a fish, Kit,” Kent repeats, mind feeling a little useless, “Or multiple fish. I’d be afraid that Kit would eat them.”

The guy smiles at that. It makes the corners of his eyes crinkle and makes Kent feel like he’s having heart palpitations. The feeling only increases when the guy sets down what he’s carrying in order to bend down and reach out towards Kit. He asks, “Is she okay with being pet?”

Kent doesn’t even have time to answer before Kit bumps her head into the stranger’s hand. He makes a soft, delighted sound and strokes her back from head to tail. In a voice that seems too gentle to come from someone who’s one beard away from lumberjack, the guy says, “Hello there, Kit! Aren’t you just the sweetest thing? You’d never eat fish from the tank, would you?”

Always a diva, Kit flops down dramatically to the floor and meows loudly. Kent watches in amazement as the other man scratches her belly and, miraculously, Kit doesn’t try to catch him in her claws. The two bond like that for a little while, with Kent watching them in a way that feels one step removed from creepy. While Kent agrees that Kit is the sweetest thing, she’s not usually one for strangers. He debates telling the guy this and asking for his cat whisperer secrets.

Finally, Kent settles on bending down so he can pet Kit too. She’s his cat after all.  
  
“Jack,” the guy says, offering one hand to shake while still using the other to pet Kit. “Proud owner and operator of Fur-Get-Me-Not Pet Supplies.”   
  
“Kent Parson. Proud owner and caregiver of Kit Purrson.”

They shake hands over Kit, who watches them with curious eyes. Jack stands back up, helping Kent in the process and only dropping his hand when they’re both on their feet. Good thing they got themselves introduced because he really is too handsome to be called Minnow Man.

“You named her after yourself?” Jack asks.

His tone suggests that this is a fucking weird thing to do. Kent loves being a Cat Dad but is also acutely aware this is not the coolest state of being. Jeff alone informs him of the fact about twice a week. Kent tries to seem as cool as possible around people who he thinks are hot.

“The shelter originally named her Kit-Kat, because…” Kent gestures towards Kit’s coat, which admittedly, is a shade of brown very close to chocolate, “And I didn’t want to totally change her name but, like, hated Kit-Kat because it seemed derivative. So, I kept Kit and then added on the Purrson because she’s part of the family but also her own person. Or, shit, her own cat.”

The words come out in a rush. It is decidedly not the smoothest that Kent has been in his life. But, wonders of wonders, Jack’s still smiling at him and not running away. He picks the two buckets back up and Kent gets to marvel again at how his biceps bulge.

“If you wait here a second while I put fresh water into two of my tanks, I want to give you something.”  
  
Kent nods wordlessly. Jack smiles at him again before hurrying towards the other side of the aquarium aisle. There’s a wild moment where Kent pictures himself penning a “ _I never thought it would happen to me_ ” style letter to Cat Fancy Magazine.

Still on the floor, Kit meows loudly in protest for the sudden absence of attention. He scoops her up, pressing a kiss to the fluffy top of her head to thank her for being the best wingwoman he’s ever had. Jack returns quickly, with the same beautiful smile on his face, highlighting his cheekbones and the hard line of his jaw. He grabs a sharpie out of his shirt pocket and, for an instant, Kent thinks a guy is going to write his number in Kent’s hand like something out of a movie.

Instead, Jack reaches around to grab a notepad out of his pants pocket and quickly scribbles something down. Which, okay, is not as cinematic but Kent can still work with. Jack honest-to-god winks as he passes it to Kent, making his heart skip a beat. However, this problem corrects itself when Kent realizes Jack has not written his phone number but, instead, a list of cat food brands. The one that Kit likes only makes it at the very bottom.

“I’m glad to hear you adopted but know owning a cat for the first time can be overwhelming,” Jack explains. “There’s a lot of choices. Personally, I think the Ziwi Peak is worth the cost because it’s a good product from sustainable and ethical farms. Do you want me to show you?”

And Kent (who has owned cats his entire life and had Kit for nearly five years) is so besotted with this man who’s eager to tell him about the best pet food brands, nods and follows Jack back down the aisle.

* * *

“I know this looks bad,” Kent says, raising a hand in the air as means of surrender.

Jeff looks at him with a single raised eyebrow. It's his signature Look of Disappointment, a move which is totally unfair because he's been using it on Kent for almost a decade now. The Look of Disappointment usually makes an appearance whenever Kent goes overboard for the sake of Kit or a cute boy. In one memorable occasion, those two things were pitted against each other when Kent ended things with a getting-to-serious boyfriend when the guy admitted he didn't like cats and but liked Kit because "she was more like a dog, really". Even if The Look makes it clear that Jeff is on to something, he takes another moment to survey the scene before speaking.

“You’re beyond ‘looks bad’. This is _Toxoplamsa gondii_ levels.”

If nothing else, Kent can admit that he should’ve put his Fur-Get-Me-Not purchases away before Jeff showed up. Except he’d stayed later than expected talking to Jack at the store and then rushed to the corner shop so he’d have beer for when he and Jeff watched the game. As a result, the counter of Kent’s kitchenette has one six-pack, a pizza that Jeff picked up, and three bags of things for Kit. There’s a small sample of new food for them to try, two containers of heart-healthy treats, a new brush, and an entire bag of new toys. On the kitchen table, there’s a new bowl that Kent was assembling when Jeff showed up. Jack had explained that it was designed with an interactive puzzle in it that would keep Kit happy and occupied.

Kit herself seems unbothered by the scene in front of her. She winds herself between Jeff’s legs, meowing in a way that’s more like a yell. Despite knowing that Jeff has a mild cat allergy and pops a Benadryl before coming over, Kent still feels offended on Kit’s behalf when Jeff ignores her in order to examine the contents of the bags. When he finds the receipt, the raised eyebrow returns with full strength.

“Kenteth-”

“Not my name! As I’ve told you before.”  
  
Jeff continues as if Kent never interrupted. “You spent over two-hundred dollars on things for your cat. A cat who, I know, has pretty much one of everything on this receipt.”

Now, Jeff using his I-Am-Six-Months-Older-And-Therefore-Know-All voice. It was old when they first met in high school and Jeff was Kent’s partner for a project. It was old when Jeff advised against Kent attempting twenty-one shots in twenty-one minutes on his birthday. And still, when it’s put that way, Kent can’t help but wince a little. Trying to make himself seem like a reasonable adult, Kent gets real plates out of the cabinet for himself and Jeff to eat. Jeff keeps staring at him, knowing full well that eventually he’s going to break. And Kit, bored of the machinations of humans, wanders off as Kent plates the pizza.

There’s about another minute of silence, in which Jeff cracks open a beer and takes a long sip. Kent tries to avoid eye contact, knowing his best friend can read him like an open book. Finally, Jeff lets out a long sigh and asks, “Are you really going to make me find out what’s up by going through your Spotify history again, bro?”

“That was one time and it was a lucky guess!” Kent replies hotly but finds himself unable to keep from smiling. Finally, he admits, “The guy who owns the store was hot.”

Jeff, who Kent has willingly and enthusiastically called his best friend for years, laughs in his face. It’s not a nasty or snide laugh because Jeff doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. Instead, it’s a laugh of absolute delight that Kent can’t even be mad at. Instead, he feels his face flush and tries pressing a can of beer to the side of his face to remedy it. The can is cool and sweaty, but Kent knows he’s still blushing. They’re undeniably best friends and have gotten each other through hook ups and break ups and all that comes between - that doesn’t mean it’s any easier for Kent to talk about.

“Oh, thank god,” Jeff says around a mouthful of pizza. “I thought I’d actually have to look into it and find you were on another sad Britney Spears spiral.”

“He wasn’t _just_  hot,” Kent clarifies. “He’s really passionate about animal advocacy and he was so thorough in explaining the best ways to take care of a new cat. Like, clearly done research about what stuff to keep in his store.

If Kent chooses not to emphasize how his hand brushed Jack’s over a can of wet food, that’s his business. Jeff has been with his boyfriend since college and, as such, probably wouldn’t remember the hot burst of attraction that fills your belly when you meet someone for the first time. Jeff and his boyfriend routinely host board game night and have staycation weekends and other domestic bliss things that Kent definitely doesn’t wish for when it’s late at night. Definitely not.

Still, Jeff leans his chin onto one hand as he asks, “And when did you inform him that you were a cat expert? Before or after you dropped the money on squeaky mice?”

"I didn't tell him," Kent says miserably. "I was trying to get a feel for whether or not he was into me and then, boom, I'm going home with a bunch of stuff for Kit but no date, no phone number. Not even a 'hey, let's become Facebook friends'!"

"Parson, you're killing me,” Jeff groans as he pats Kent’s shoulder consoling. "What's your plan of attack for when you go back?"

Chewing thoughtfully on a slice of pizza, Kent considers what exactly his game plan _should_  be. It's not that he's a shrinking violet by any means. But taking the promotion at work that required he move cities had led to Kent doing a bit of soul-searching. Hooking up at clubs was fun and easy in NYC. In Providence, he decided it was time to slow down a little and try doing things like a grown up. A meet-cute with the local pet shop owner feels grown up, though admittedly strays a little into rom-com territory. Maybe it's a sign - Kent needs to woo a guy for once instead of going for the path of least resistance.

"I'll go back next week," he says slowly, more for his own benefit than Jeff's. "We'll talk about cats and I'll explain that I actually know a ton about them. He finds me, fuck, I dunno...charming because of it? We get coffee?"

"And live happily ever after!" Jeff grins, popping open another beer. "Then, you'll have a date in time for the Fourth of July party that Michael and I are hosting."

And normally, Kent would argue that it's not fair that they're hosting a party on _his_  birthday but the idea makes his stomach flip pleasantly. At the very least, he would be happy to see what Jack looks like in a swimsuit instead of a flannel and jeans. He reaches out to bump knuckles with Jeff before the conversation shifts to the game they're watching tonight.

* * *

Not wanting to appear eager but actually feeling eager-as-fuck, Kent waits for four days to pass before returning to Fur-Get-Me-Not. Stopping by after work, he spends an embarrassing amount of time in his car debating whether or not to take his tie off and whether his hair looks stupid. Logically, Kent knows his rearview mirror can't actually mock him. But it certainly feels that way as he struggles to exam the entire upper half of his body in its tiny reflection.

In the end, he loosens his tie and runs his hands through his hair a couple of times to make it just _slightly_  messy. The look Kent is aiming for is casual: oh, just stopping by to pick up litter and, hey, it would be cool to get a drink sometime. As he clicks the lock for his car door and jams the key into his pocket, he's suddenly aware his hands are sweaty. Kent sincerely hopes the loosened tie does the trick because his body acting like a middle schooler at his first dance is decidedly not casual.

A short woman with an artsy fartsy haircut is lingering in the doorway as Kent tries to enter. Through the display window, he can see Jack chatting at her from the register. Putting his best foot forward, Kent puts on his toothiest grin as he opens the door. The woman doesn't move immediately, in the middle of saying something about lumber.

"Excuse me," he says, "I'm just gonna sneak past ya."

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Jack and the woman both immediately have their eyes on Kent and she stops mid-sentence. Kent can feel his face grow hot. It's not because of their attention (because, honestly, he'd love to have Jack stare at him all day with those beautiful blue eyes.) No, Kent flushes when he realizes what he said. Providence may not have the same kind of hard bite that Kent loved about New York City but it's still the east coast and, as such, has an inherent snobbiness that Kent has found replicated many other places in the country. The words "sneak past ya" just fell out of Kent's mouth and, frankly, he blames Jeff because Jeff is from Minnesota and says shit like that constantly.

The woman raises a single eyebrow in such a way that suggests she's practiced. She turns to Jack, not dropping her eyebrow. "Is this guy who bakes the organic dog treats?"

"No, this is Kent," Jack says his name in a way that makes Kent's stomach flip pleasantly. "And since customer service trumps chatting, I'll get back to you on the next order. Drive safe, Lardo."

Kent's mortification ebbs slightly as he tries to decide whether if he heard wrong or if the woman's name is actually 'Lardo'. She nods good-naturedly at Jack on her way out, giving him a smile that must have some secret meaning because the lightest hint of color appears on Jack's face. Hopefully, whatever it means is a good thing for Kent. Once the door closes with a little jingle of the bell, Jack turns back to Kent. He's wearing flannel again, unbuttoned to reveal a black tee shirt. It would seem that even with his sleeves rolled up to showcase his own impressive forearms, Kent has still been beaten in his pursuit of casual chic.

Jack's smile is gorgeous as he asks, "What brings you in today? Did one of the samples work out for Kit?"

Kit, light of Kent's life, has yet to indicate that she prefers any one of the brands over another. Despite the fact that Kent even went to the trouble of setting up a three plate blind taste test, she took a few bites from each before whining for scraps of Kent's dinner. Still, he’s touched at Jack’s thoughtfulness - Kent hopes it’s beyond the typical level of customer service.

On his commute every day this week, Kent practiced how he would explain that things between them had begun with a misunderstanding. Kent knew plenty about how to treat Kit like the princess she was but Jack had been very sweet to offer his advice. So sweet, in fact, that Kent wanted to treat him to a drink and maybe dinner if he hadn't eaten yet. Rehearsing in his car over the sounds of the traffic report, it had been easy. Kent even knew when he wanted to drop a wink, just so Jack knew he was offering more than a bro's night.

All that flies out the window, however, now that Kent realizes he's been staring. Specifically, he's been staring at the hollow of Jack's throat as it peeks out from his tee shirt collar. There's still a smile on Jack's face, so Kent probably hasn't been looking for an inappropriate amount of time but that also doesn't mean he's within the [ _appropriate_ ] time frame to answer such a simple question. Feeling flustered all over again, Kent blurts, "Kit needs a new scratching post!"

Maybe it's Kent's imagination, but Jack's smile seems to falter a little. Still, his voice remains light as he echoes, "A new scratching post?"

"She has one at home but the movers fucked it up," Kent says because it's true. "You were so great the other day that I figured you'd be the guy to see about a new one."

The latter half is not strictly a lie. Kent has been shopping around for a new post, acutely aware that he has precious little time before Kit begins tearing into his furniture and curtains. However, Kent's version of shopping around has mainly involved reading Amazon reviews and putting some of the top contenders as a "Save for Later" in his cart. He's not about to admit that to the guy that owns his own pet supply store though. If nothing else, Jack may think he's a dick for not supporting small businesses and then they'd never make it to a first date - let a life of sun and glamour on a private island with just themselves and Kit.

"Lardo is actually the guy to see," Jack replies, woefully unaware of Kent's island daydreams. "She's the one who just left but her work is like art. Euh, I mean, even her non-artwork work is like art."

Jack flushes again, this time the color trailing down his neck in splotches. Kent desperately wants to know how far down it goes but, remembering his mission to be casual, just nods along. Sidestepping the counter, Jack pats Kent on the shoulder and steers him towards the cat tree forest that Kent noticed on his first trip to the store.

There's about a half-dozen structures that aren't immediately recognizable as cat trees. Instead of the beige carpet and cord-wrapped poles Kent is familiar with, Jack shows him several different wood units made of dark-stained wood. They seem to be made up of different shapes - cubes and rectangles along with shapes that look like Tetris pieces. They’re stacked like Tetris pieces anyway, balanced in a way that Kit or any other cat could surely destroy if motivated enough. Some sides of the pieces have sisal fabric, while others have corrugated cardboard. Without those and if he weren’t in a pet shop, Kent would have probably assumed these were trendy shelves that his sister had on her Pinterest board. He bites back a comment saying just that because Jack beams as he explains.

“Lardo is actually a sculptor. When I commissioned her for some unique, pet-friendly pieces she hesitated at first. But she rose to the occasion, eh?”

Kent eyes the price tag of one of the trees. It’s not outside the realm of what he’d expect to pay for a custom art piece. At the same time, he tends to not buy custom art pieces for the sole purpose of Kit tearing them up. Still, trying to feel the situation out, he asks, “Is ‘Lardo’ your idea of a pet name or, like, some Banksy modern art pseudonym type thing?”

Jack laughs at that. The sound is soft and quick, more of a huff than anything really. Still, he looks immediately surprised as if he’d forgotten what it sounded like himself. Shoving his hands into the pocket of his jeans, Jack leans in towards Kent like they’re sharing a secret.

“The only thing I know about modern art is that Lardo makes it. And, to be honest, the cat trees and scratchers are the only art of hers that I really ‘get’.”

Jack laughs softly again and Kent joins him, not feeling the normal anxiety he has when expected to talk about art or other bullshit Sophisticated Adult Things. At all times, Kent is acutely aware that he’s only gotten this far in life because of decent timing, good luck, and the philosophy of fake-it-’til-you-make-it.

Stepping forward to show how the units making up the displays can be taken apart and stacked in different ways, Jack continues.

“I’ve known Lardo since undergrad. She and her boyfriend gave me the idea for the shop at a frat party. Frat parties are where we got our nicknames too.”

Kent tries to picture Jack in a frat. The image doesn’t compute in his mind, but that may just be because frats were decidedly not a part of Kent’s barely existent college experience. Generally, anyone beside Jeff and his boyfriend (who were there for it) get either sad-eyed or snobby when he reveals that he never made it through community college, so Kent dances around the topic with another question.

“What’s your frat nickname then?”

“Oh. I...I didn’t have one,” Jack says it like he’s shy about the fact and it makes Kent think maybe he would get the community college thing after all. “But my best friend has only answered to ‘Shitty’ for the past seven years. He’s a lawyer now.”

Kent laughs in delight at that and, encouraged by it, Jack launches into a story of their frat days. That leads Kent to explain how Jeff and his boyfriend got together. Somehow, between swapping stories, Kent picks out several units for a modular cat tree. He’ll definitely need to rearrange furniture to make room for it in the apartment. It’s worth it though to see Jack hoist it up onto one shoulder and carry it to Kent’s car, never breaking a sweat or straining with effort.

* * *

It's rare that Kent decides to run in the mornings - even rarer that he wakes up specifically to go for a run early on a Saturday. But the night before he'd gone to Jeff and Michael's place only to be faced with dual Looks of Disappointment when he explained that, no, he hadn't told Jack the truth. Then, over dinner, Jeff had gently reminded him that playing _Lucky_ on repeat was not, in fact, a viable solution to Kent's problems. Kent countered that by pointing out that Jeff once cried when listening to Dave Matthews Band, so maybe neither one of them could comment on the other's music tastes. But, as much as he hated to admit it, Jeff was right. So, he's running in the first light of dawn in order to think things over.   
  
Except, as he goes through a path in the park he hasn't explored before, Kent freezes when he hears someone call his name. Turning around, he can see Jack cut across the grass in order to jog over to him. Despite the fact that Kent still isn't sure how to explain everything, this in itself isn't a problem because A) he genuinely enjoys talking to Jack and B) they now have discovered a common interest beyond animals - jogging. No, the problem is attached to Jack's wrist by a neon yellow leash and harness. A tan dog runs along Jack, tongue lolling and looking up at him happily even when they stop a few feet short of Kent. Its tag wags furiously, bouncing off Jack's calf until he makes a downward scooping motion with his hand and it sits.   
  
"Nice morning for a run, eh?" Jack says, breath still a little heavy. "I don't think I've seen you out this way before."   
  
"New route," Kent says faintly, keeping his eyes on the dog as he pulls out his earbuds.   
  
It's sitting right next to Jack, staring up at him with big brown eyes. And while Kent wouldn't go so far as to say he hates all dogs on principle, he has yet to meet one that he felt anything more than apathy for. He doesn't get the hype and, honestly, Dog People are usually way too much for him as they try to militantly convince him that cats are evil. He's a little bummed to find out that Jack is probably a Dog Person, but not entirely surprised, as it fits into the overall narrative of the universe being out to get Kent Parson. For example, Jack must mistake Kent's wary look for interest and steps forward with the dog.   
  
"Juno is a sweetheart and she loves to be pet," Jack explains, bending down to demonstrate. He delivers two solid pats to the dog's side before she lays down and rolls over to expose her belly. "She loves meeting new people."   
  
As he talks about his dog, Jack's voice goes low and fond. Kent's heart can't help but melt a little and, despite the fact that it goes against every instinct he has, he steps closer to scratch the dog's belly. Kneeling in the still dew-covered grass, Kent maybe lasts for thirty seconds of petting before the dog scrambles to lick at his hand.

Recoiling, Kent tries not to show his annoyance at the fact that now his hand and his knees are wet. After all, the memories of laughing with Jack over cat trees and learning more about his less-than-stereotypical frat life are still fresh and delightful in Kent's mind. Maybe it's not so bad - Jack knows so much about cats and, after all, people need dog-sitters. 

  
"So, is she named Juno after the Ellen Page movie?" Kent asks, thinking back to that first conversation about Kit's name.   
  
"Ellen Page is the one with the talk show, right?" Jack asks, so serious that Kent can't even laugh at him. "I don't keep up with pop culture. Euh, Juno was the codenames for one of the beaches that Canada defended on D-Day. Actually, it was actually codenamed 'Jellyfish' and then 'Jelly' but Winston Churchill wouldn't have it. So, 'Juno' it is."   
  
Juno doesn't seem to notice that her name has been said so much in such a short amount of time. Instead, she seems intent on pulling at her harness to sniff at Kent's shoes and shorts. Kent realizes that they must smell just like Kit and that Juno's still wagging her tail happily, but he still takes another step back. He's not eager to be covered in slobber or be knocked down by a dog that looks like it could easily weigh seventy pounds. Jack must notice this and says, "Make eye contact with her and point down at the ground."   
  
Kent does so and, instantly, Juno drops into the grass and sets her chin on her front paws. Her tail still wags like crazy and, before Kent can ask, Jack explains.   
  
"She's deaf and spent a lot of time in the shelter because it made her harder to train. I got her home and, it took a while, but she's pretty good with hand signals now."   
  
Because Kent is a Cat Person, he has never put a lot of stock in the ability of dogs to learn different tricks in exchange for treats. Usually, because the aforementioned Dog People used it as proof that dogs were superior, without even caring that Kit would also bring a toy back to be thrown again if she felt up for it. He doesn't say this though.

Instead, he looks at Jack and quietly realizes the care and dedication that he must have spent on his dog. Kit was a shelter rescue herself - it makes a different kind of warmth spread throughout Kent's chest. He reaches out to pat Juno's head and, this time, she doesn't move to lick him. 

"So, you don't like pop culture but you like Winston Churchill?" Kent asks lightly, in a way that he hopes come off as playful teasing.   
  
Jack smiles and rubs the back of his neck. In a mock-serious voice, he says, "Well, my college thesis advisor would tell you that Churchill was the pinnacle to Allied success in World War 2, so..."   
  
"So, more importantly, what are your feelings on Britney Spears?"     
  
Jack offers a shit-eating grin then and, still in the mock-serious voice replies, "I may not keep up with pop culture but even _I_  liked _We Belong Together_  when it came out."   
  
And, well, Kent can't let a jab like that go easily. He gets so engrossed in explaining the nuances of early 2000s pop stars that he forgets that Juno is even there. 

* * *

This time, Kent only waits two days before heading back into Fur-Get-Me-Not. To be honest, he almost doesn't go in at first because the place is clearly crowded. From their previous conversations, Kent knows that Jack does alright but he's never seen more than a few people in the place all at once. Now, there are people hanging out of the sidewalk with dogs in crates and a small crowd of what seems to be reporters just outside the main shop window. Hanging back, Kent quickly realizes why.

Alicia Zimmermann, who starred in pretty much every rom-com that his mom and sister love, speaks to a reporter with a sunny smile as she holds a tiny puppy. Straining to hear, Kent realizes that she's explaining the importance of adopting animals or, at least, only buying them from reputable stores like her son's. And, suddenly, Kent feels a little dumb because Zimmermann isn't exactly a common name and his mom probably has probably told him a dozen times that Alicia Zimmermann's son frequently comes as her date to red carpet events whenever Kent misses their weekly phone call. It's too surreal to have an actual celebrity in front of him, so he attempts to escape inside.

The interior of the shop is only slightly less crowded, but it seems like that has more to do with how a larger part of the entranceway has been blocked off with small gates. There's a group of teenage girls cooing down at whatever's inside. Stepping closer, Kent sees that Jack holding a small kitten and feeding it with a bottle. Another kitten bats at his shoelace as a third climbs up his Jack, mewling in a serious of small squeaks. Instantly, any concerns about Jack being a worst case of Dog People disappear. Leaning on the fence, Kent excitedly asks, "Can I hold one?"

Jack looks a little surprised but still nods as he shifts the kitten he's feeding to one hand and gently grabs the one off his back to offer to Kent. The kitten still has its downy, baby coat and is black as Jack's hair. It's still all round belly and stumpy legs as it mews up at Kent, utterly melting his heart. Still on the floor, Jack says, "I thought you might like these guys. They were born in the shelter about a month ago but won't be up for adoption for a few more weeks."

"Duh, if they're still drinking milk, they're not ready for forever homes," Kent says automatically, gently rubbing his finger under the kitten's chin. "They're from the local shelter then?"

Jack gives Kent a funny look but nods again. "I like to do fundraisers twice a year for them. Usually, we get a decent showing, but Maman really got a lot of new people interested."

The kitten finishes the bottle but Jack keeps holding her, looking in Kent's direction but past him. Not even bothering to be sneaky, Kent follows his line of sight and realizes that Jack is staring through the storefront. Alicia Zimmermann is still outside as dozens of cameras flash at her. From this viewpoint, she doesn't even seem real - just an outline against the light. Jack catches Kent looking too and clears his throat.

"I don't want to sound like I'm complaining," he begins. "But it was hard growing up with everyone knowing my mom and expecting me to be like her. And I'm glad that we're raising so much money for the shelter but I don't want people to think I'm using my name to run my business."

Kent wants to reassure Jack that no one would think that in a million years, but that's not true. He's sure that [a lot] of people, in fact, would raise an eyebrow at the fact that the son of America's former sweetheart runs a pleasant but unassuming pet shop for the hell of it. Of course, Kent isn't such a dumbass that he'd say that out loud. Instead, he's the type of dumbass that wants to be kind but not corny and instead tells Jack, "It's better you don't use your name. Jack's Pet Supply doesn't quite have the same ring."

Miraculously, this seems to do the trick. Jack gently places the kitten on the floor so it can play with its littermates and smiles at Kent. He's looking away from the storefront and the crowd outside, focusing entirely on Kent.

"JLZ Pet Supply was actually what I wanted to call it. My initials. Shitty nixed that one."

Kent can't believe it.'JLZ Pet Supply' is so no-nonsense compared to 'Fur-Get-Me-Not' that he has to laugh at what an absolute nerd Jack is. This beats naming his dog after some World War II battle site and how he stumbled when discussing modern art. Jack Zimmermann is more than handsome or successful - he's a nerd who seems perfectly content pretending like he's never heard a pop song that was released in the last decade and loves animals to the point where he'll spend hours researching things like ethical farming practices in cat food brands. He's a nerd, which means he's straightforward and makes jokes without punchlines. Jack is a nerd and that's why it feels like things with him would work out where all of Kent's other relationships failed. Because Kent is a nerd too.

And, honest to god, Kent wants to voice this realization. He wants to explain how their nerdiness is compatable. He wants to explain how he'd even be willing to learn to like dogs if the dog in question is Juno and Jack continues to demonstrate above-average cat knowledge. But to say it out loud would mean making it all real and, to be honest, Kent has never been great at being real with himself. Kent tries to tell himself it's because of the literal crowd of teenagers only a foot a way that he bites his tongue.

They stay in silence for a little bit, a reversal of what occurred only moments before. Now, Jack watches as Kent holds a kitten to his chest while Kent stares at the space just past Jack's shoulder. When the quiet begins to make him feel itchy, Kent gestures towards the spot with the hand not actively cradling a kitten.

Trying not to sound too lovesick, he asks. "Is that a new display?

"Euh," Jack says, turning slowly. "Yeah. I ordered some dishes with water fountains in them after a couple of regulars asked. You're not interested, are you?"

"Incredibly interested," Kent replies, trying not to grit his teeth. "Almost painfully so."

Jack gives him another funny look, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Kent would've sworn the energy between them has shifted somehow - if he was still in what Jeff called his Astrology Phase. Instead, he tries to put the idea out of his mind as allows himself to be lead towards the bowls and listens to Jack explain how the fountains work.

* * *

Anyone who knows Kent will tell you the lengths he goes to keep Kit in the lap of luxury.

However, Kit’s idea of luxury does not seem to include water dishes with running fountains. Kent spent about forty minutes figuring out how to get the damn thing to run while Kit watched with mild interest. Once the fountain actually ran, Kit sniffed it for a little bit before forgoing meowing completely in order to yowl.

"I know it's different," Kent says tenderly, reaching out to rub Kit's head. "But Jack says the manufacturer says that running water is healthier because it doesn't have time to sit out and collect debris. Plus, shit, maybe it tastes better?"

Kit twists herself in a tight circle as she wraps around and between Kent's ankles, still making sounds of protest. To be honest, the explanation sounds weak to Kent's own ears. Obviously, he knows standing water can be gross. That's why he gives Kit fresh water whenever he's in the kitchen and handwashes her bowls every night. As for it tasting better...well, Kent witnessed Kit attempting to eat her own hairballs once. Sliding down so he can sit on the floor with his back on his kitchen cabinet, Kent can't help but think his reflection looks pitiful in the chrome-plating of the new cat dish.

"Okay, so it's bullshit. But it's bullshit that meant I had an excuse to hang out with Jack for a little bit."

Seemingly disgusted with the bowl and Kent's lack of action, Kit stalks out of the room. With no one in the apartment but the two of them, it's silent save for the soft gurgle of the water fountain. As Kent tries to reevaluate the life choices that brought him to the point where he considers someone selling him products "hanging out", Kit returns to the room with a catnip mouse in her mouth. It's one that Kent bought on their first trip to Fur-Get-Me-Not and, despite nearly three weeks having passed, it shows virtually no wear-and-tear. Usually, Kit isn't so merciless on her toys.

"I guess I've gone beyond the regular spoiling lately, huh?" he says as Kit drops the toy at his feet.

Normally, this would be the cue that Kit wants him to throw or dangle it. Kent isn't delusional - he knows he doesn't have a dog and he doesn't want one. But that doesn't mean that Kit doesn't initiate play now and again. He holds the toy just out of reach, which normally causes Kit to bat at it. Instead, she levels him with what could be her own Look of Disappointment; the pupils of her eyes narrowed so they're just slits amongst the green. She meows at him this time, the sound drawn out and low.

Kent leans in close so he can press a kiss to the top of her head. Kit wriggles away from him at that, trotting away with her tail swishing. Without an ounce of shame and a smile on his face, Kent calls out to her retreating back.

"I hate it when you're right!"

* * *

 

Kent returns to Fur-Get-Me-Not the next day, less than an hour after the shop opened for the day. Compared to the crowd brought in for the shelter fundraiser, the entire street seems like a ghost town. He's brought Kit along for the ride, holding her lead in one hand and the water bowl box tucked underneath his arm. The familiar bell twinkles above their heads as they enter and, immediately, Kent can smell black coffee roasting. It makes his mouth water a little.   
  
"Be with you in a moment!" Jack calls, causing a wave of [déjà vu] to wash over Kent.   
  
Kit pulls against her harness but Kent doesn't budge. Instead, he scoops her up and heads toward the counter to set down the box. It's the first time he's been here in the morning and it's peaceful - which is nice considering that Kent isn't sure if he'll be able to justify visiting anymore if Jack totally shoots him down. Still, he also is running out of specialty or novelty pet products for the sake of seeing a guy. Even if the guy is smart and handsome and devastatingly sincere. Even if the guy could make Kent reconsider his long-standing view on Dog People.   
  
The smell of roasting coffee grows stronger along with the sound of footsteps. Pretty sure of who it is, Kent swallows once and presses a kiss to the top of Kit's head. She squirms in his arms and, realizing it's time to face the music, Kent allows her to jump out of his arms as he turns around. Jack stops just short of them, a delighted expression on his face and a still steaming mug of coffee in his hands.   
  
"Hey, Kent," he says easily, bending down to stroke Kit's back. "And it's good to see you again, Kit. What brings you back so soon?"   
  
Kent bites his lip. It's tempting to rip the band-aid and just blurt out how he feels. But if things go south, the water bowl was almost sixty dollars and he doesn't think rejection makes processing a return any more fun. He gestures towards the box on the counter.   
  
"Uhm. I don't think it's going to work out," Kent falters for a minute, "I mean, the bowl. I don't think the bowl is going to work out."   
  
On the ground, Kit flops her entire body down so she's out of Jack's reach. He takes this and Kent's words in stride, still smiling as he heads towards the other side of the counter. On the way, he pats Kent on the shoulder and squeezes once. It's a decidedly Bro-y gesture and wouldn't be out of place at a Little League game. Still, the gesture makes Kent's heart soar.   
  
It's heady because, within the gesture, Kent can see this scene playing out a thousand times. He and Jack, spending early hours together with the smell of coffee and the sound of Kit the only thing between them. The two of them - swapping stories about their respective jobs at night and running together through the park on the weekends. Maybe even a full house - the two of them and Kit and Juno and maybe even a few foster kittens for good measure. All this, from a fucking shoulder pat.   
  
Kent is so totally screwed. Because while he's been internally monologuing, Jack has processed his return and has been talking the whole time about how he's sorry that the water dish didn't work out. As he counts out the cash into Kent's hand, Jack smiles apologetically. His eyes are focused on Kit, who seems to be convinced she can melt into the floor with enough effort.   
  
"Cats can be real finicky about change," Jack says, "But I'm guessing you knew that already?"   
  
His expression has changed - blue eyes sparkling now and the shit-eating grin back again. Unsure of what the joke is, Kent nods as he tucks the money away. Jack takes a long sip of coffee. In the early morning light, the shop is still and quiet and Kent desperately wishes he'd had the foresight to make his own coffee before coming in. He'd spent most of the night working himself up to the point where he felt ready though and was worried he'd lose the momentum in the daylight.   
  
Jack leans his elbows on the counter, still smiling. In Kent's opinion, it should be illegal.   
  
"I don't Twitter or anything," Jack explains slowly, "But Lardo put pictures of the cat trees on Pinterestagram-"   
  
"Pinterest and Instagram are two different things," Kent interrupts.   
  
This is another prime example of the nerd thing because Kent shouldn't be utterly charmed by the fact that an adult man doesn't know basic apps. But it's [refreshing] - someone who doesn't know them and, therefore, is unlikely to spend the type of time worrying about his social media like Kent does. Hell, Kit has her own insta! Jack continues on, waving his hand in the hair and taking another sip of coffee.   
  
"The one with the tiny square pictures," he says as if it's irrelevant. "And she saw that you had photos of your cat trees up. Then, she showed me all your other Pinterestagram posts."   
  
Kent's insta is a carefully curated blend of cool places he's gone, selfies where he looks his best, and the most delicious things he eats. Once again, Kit has her own insta, but that doesn't mean Kent doesn't have a lot of especially cute photos of her on his own page. Or all the posts from before he made her account about a year ago, depending on how far back they combed his page. Still, Jack keeps smiling which means he couldn't have found anything too heinous.   
  
"You didn't just adopt Kit," Jack says simply.   
  
Kent nods dumbly, a sense of dread slowly settling in his stomach like a rock. His face feels hot and his hands are beginning to sweat. Kit has abandoned him entirely, now batting lazily at a display just out of her reach. The only solace is that Jack is still smiling at him.   
  
"So, you bought a bunch of cat stuff and listened to me give you advice while you better than me the whole time?"   
  
If the universe was fair and just, the floor would open up and swallow Kent whole. It isn't though, so Kent has to stand there with the knowledge that he's been found out because of his Instagram feed of all things. Now, his face is past 'hot' and well into 'burning' as he stares down at his shoes. Mouth feeling dry, he mumbles, "I had a good reason for it?"   
  
"I'd like to buy you dinner," Jack says, causing the world to shift off its axis. "Euh. Like, buy you dinner as a date?"   
  
Kent looks up so quickly that it's a wonder he doesn't give himself whiplash. Jack is roughly the color of a tomato, rubbing his neck with one hand and gripping his coffee mug so tightly that his knuckles are white. Mentally, Kent renounces any thoughts about the universe not being fair and just because Jack just asked him out to dinner and went so far as to make sure he knew it was for a date. Jack knows that Kent has been a cat expert the whole time and let him return the stupid cat bowl and has seen the number of times Kent's taken pictures of pizza and he still wants to go out with him. It's all too much in the best way possible.   
  
Overwhelmed, Kent leans over the counter and kisses Jack. To his credit, Jack only freezes for a half-second before reaching out to cup the back of Kent's head, kissing back enthusiastically. He still tastes like coffee and, when they pull apart a moment later, Kent feels like he's just taken a dozen espresso shots.   
  
"I'll take that as a yes?" Jack asks, face pink.   
  
Kent huffs goodnaturedly, but still smiles as he replies. "Just know that I expect a wicked store discount from here on out."


End file.
